Virtue’s Reward (A Poor Man at the Gate Series, Book 11)

by Andrew Wareham

  The previous owner had been a racing man, a young gentleman who had put his horse to the wrong fence and had been rolled on when it fell. He had also spent too much of his substance on his stock and his betting; his heir had been forced to sell out to cover his debts.

  Frederick had examined the books closely - he had learned how at the bank - and had decided that he could afford to keep the stables as a breeding stud. They were good horses and he could make a name for himself in the equine world - which meant the whole of the plantocracy - while probably breaking even on the business. He had no wish to fall into debt, the bank having quickly imposed its standards on him.

  It did not occur to him that he had been sent to Virginia to keep him out of sight and knowledge of the politically powerful and that a reputation was not what was required of him.

  The cotton fields showed a steady profit and his overseer - a rude, uncultured lout - knew the trade, even if he had to say almost everything twice, the second time slowly so that Frederick could understand him. The plantation grew most of its own food as well, several hundred of its acres being hilly and unsuited to cotton but well able to produce corn and beans and greens. There were fruit trees as well, he understood, and pig sties and chicken by the hundred. All seemed in fact to be highly prosperous and best left well alone.

  Frederick had found it appropriate to keep a distance from the slaves, the field hands, having very little to say to them. The overseer existed for that part of the business.

  The house slaves were, in the nature of things, another matter. The late owner had been unwed, like Frederick, and appeared to have kept at least a dozen of maidservants, all of them good-looking girls. Frederick was no longer wholly naive and it was obvious to him that the girls had served as bed-partners to the gentleman; he had some doubts about the propriety of maintaining such a harem, but in the end was happy enough to avail himself of their services. It did not occur to him to enquire whether they were content and willing in their role - he presumed they had volunteered for the life, as it must be far better than labouring in the fields.

  His neighbours from the plantations around him on the flatlands to the east and south came visiting within his first week, riding in unannounced by card or letter to make his acquaintance. West and north was higher land, hills rising to mountains, he had been told, the province of small farmers rather than of rich planters; the two sorts of people had little to say to each other and he would not expect to know them.

  "Frankly, Lord Frederick, they are no more than peasants in the true, European meaning of the word," Mr Bentley said. He was rather disappointed to discover that Frederick was familiar with the concept of the small holder who worked the land with his own hands; he had expected to give a learned exposition of the concept.

  Bentley was the third-generation owner of the plantation closest on the east, Broadlands. He had already claimed roots in Hampshire in 'Old England' and had hinted at aristocratic forbears, hence the name taken from the great estate on the edges of the New Forest. Frederick had no comment to make, it was not impossible; many aristocratic families had despatched bastards and black sheep to the Americas over the years; indeed, now that he considered the point, it seemed that he was one of the black sheep himself. He wondered why.

  He managed to keep a courteous expression of interest on his face while Bentley burbled on about the blue blooded, of whom a surprisingly large number were to be discovered among his neighbours, to the south and east, of course.

  "But, it must be said, Lord Frederick, that none actually have a title, sir! I must ask, sir, is your title hereditary, as such?"

  That was a bloody stupid question, Frederick thought. How else would he have received it? Then it occurred to him that the ignorant little man was asking whether a son would become Lord Frederick in his turn.

  "No, Mr Bentley. The title accrues to me as the non-inheriting son of a marquis. My father is Grafham; my elder brother, the heir, is Viscount Rothwell and my sister is Lady Margaret. These are courtesy titles, no more and my children, and hers, will be plain misters and misses. My wife, however, should such eventuate, will be Lady Frederick."

  The gleam in Bentley's eye said that he had a daughter of marriageable age. He made an immediate invitation to my lord to treat his house as his own, to come and meet his family and the locality as a whole. They did not generally host dinner parties in the English way, he said, because of the distances involved, but there were gatherings for a day or two every so often and they met each other in their town houses in Richmond. Did Lord Frederick own a town house yet?

  "I do not, Mr Bentley. I must take advice on the matter from my friends, sir - for, as goes without saying, I do not know Richmond yet and could not judge whether a place was in the proper part of town. I expect that Colonel Miller, or his son Mr Thomas Miller, will have much to say to me on the question. They are related to St Helens, of course - the Viscount, who is my cousin."

  Mr Bentley was instantly fascinated. He had been aware that Colonel Miller, a well-known gentleman in many ways, had been involved in the purchase of Lord Frederick's lands - Grafhams, a fine old name, he now discovered - but had not realised he had connections with a great English house. The Colonel's reputation had not been of the best, in some ways, but that must now be remedied; Bentley wondered why he had not made his eminence plain, modesty, perhaps? He ventured to ask if Lord Frederick knew the Millers well.

  "The son, Mr Thomas Miller, of course, came to England not so many years back and married into the Welsh branch of the Masters family. I met him then, but had never seen the Colonel before coming to Virginia myself. I believe that his feelings for England were coloured by his service during your War of Independence, in which, as we all know, he was prominent."

  A patriotic American and a connection of the English aristocracy - what more could one ask of any man? Bentley was now determined to make amends for any previous perceived cold shoulder - the Millers must be his very good friends!

  There was to be a race meeting in a few weeks which would attract people from all over the state and Mr Bentley was sure that he would see Lord Frederick there - he would be flattered to introduce him to the figures of Virginia society.

  "I shall be most pleased to attend, Mr Bentley. I have always enjoyed equitation and will be delighted to discover how you go on here. I find that there are some thoroughbreds in the stables here, but of course I have no knowledge of them yet. I must remedy that lack, I believe."

  "Will you wish to ride them yourself, Lord Frederick?"

  "Not in races, Mr Bentley. I sit more than twelve stone, about one hundred and seventy pounds, in the saddle, and that is far too great a burden for a flat horse to carry. For pleasure and perhaps out hunting, then yes, I will ride them - though probably a hunter rather than these smaller Arabians. I must get back into the saddle - I was injured a few months ago and have only recently returned to robust health."

  Bentley remained for nearly three hours, gossiping and probing into Frederick's past - there was no concept of the proper length of a courtesy visit it seemed.

  A dozen others visited, all men, all anxious to discover that he was of the right sort, that he would fit into their way of life. It seemed that there had been in the past one or two English gentlemen cast out of London society for various misdemeanours and expecting to continue their loose and louche ways in Virginia, and indeed to corrupt planter's sons and daughters to them. It was the case, Frederick discovered, that one had been horsewhipped and a second shot down in the street in Richmond; he made it clear that he was a man of conventional ways.

  He was questioned, obliquely, on his religious habits as well. He was expected, he gathered, to be a good son of the Church, though of which particular church he was not quite certain, but he was not to be given to excesses of enthusiasm. He could find no problem there, simply saying that he was Church of England, when he remembered.

  Not a word was said about slavery, and Frederick had no wish to raise the top
ic.

  There was a birthday celebration to be held some thirty miles away in the following week - a son reaching his majority. Frederick was invited and was glad to promise his attendance; there would be a dozen and more of plantation families there. Colonel Miller had warned him that there would be such gatherings and that he must be prepared with appropriate gifts. A hunting rifle would never come amiss and a man would never object to having two or three in his gunroom. Frederick had placed his order in Richmond and the rifles had been delivered from stock - the quality gunsmiths were well patronised.

  Colonel Miller had also advised him to buy pistols, for a gentleman was often expected to carry arms, almost as a declaration of his status.

  Frederick was less certain of the wisdom of so doing, primarily because he was a very average hand with a pistol and feared to look foolish, but he was assured that using them was far less important than displaying his right to carry them.

  He had observed his visitors during the week and had noted that every one of them had a bulge under his coat. It was certainly the case that one rode out under arms, he decided.

  He had enquired whether the roads were unsafe - was the institution of the highwayman one of the traditions brought across from England?

  The answers were vague and various, but a common thread was that one never knew - it was always possible that there might be runaways or vagabonds or roughnecks from up in the hills. There was an element of disquiet, of hidden, unadmitted fear; underneath the supreme confidence of the gentleman there was a thread of unease, well suppressed but present in all he spoke to. Their foundations were built upon sand, he concluded; they had a society of leisure and elegance, but they did not wish to examine its basis at all closely.

  Thinking on the matter, it was in many ways similar to Vienna - elegance married to arrogance and superimposed on a wilful blindness. Nothing could go wrong - it was not permitted.

  It occurred to Frederick that if this was obvious to him - not, he freely admitted, the most perceptive of men - then other observers must have come to the same conclusions. It might, of course, be that he was wrong; he hoped so.

  The birthday gathering was one of open unsophisticated joy; young Mr Elphinstone was become a man, heir to a great plantation and a leader of his land. He was a well-mannered, not especially bright but supremely pleasant and confident young man - he could have been a Guards lieutenant. Frederick was unimpressed - he had met many such, had tried to talk to them on occasion, but they had known nothing of art and he had had too little to offer in his knowledge of London society. He expected this one to be no better.

  The day was spent in outdoor sports of various sorts, even some of the ladies indulging in a little archery; the men shot against each other and took part in a steeplechase. Frederick showed himself competent in the saddle - Elphinstone senior having mounted him on a very strong chestnut which he kept in hand and brought home in third place, an achievement much commented upon.

  "He gave that one to an Army officer down from Washington last year. Unseated him at the first," Mr Bentley quietly commented. "Good way to discover what a man is made of, sir."

  "It is a fine horse, sir, though one to be treated with respect."

  "As indeed are you, Lord Frederick!"

  The evening saw a ball, a formal occasion Frederick understood. He was staying in the house overnight and retired before dinner to don the correct dress for the evening, having replenished his wardrobe before leaving England for the wilds of the unknown West.

  Richmond tailoring was not on a par with that of England, he discovered; the ladies observed him with awe, the men almost with distaste.

  He had not considered himself to be a bandbox creature but the men certainly considered him to be rather too pretty for Virginia tastes. He had not brought a valet across the ocean, now regretted the fact - he would really have liked to have struck them entirely dumb. He made an immediate resolve to send a letter to his father - on second thoughts he amended that to his new brother, Captain Hood - to discover a London valet and put him aboard ship. A man of his own could be relied upon to oversee the provincial tailors and produce a proper appearance - one that would no doubt irritate the local males whenever they saw him. It would be good for the males of the plantations to become aware of their shortcomings and to acknowledge his mastery in the field of civilised elegance.

  He was sat at table in the position of guest of honour; as a newcomer to their society that was a reasonable courtesy, one that must have been expected, yet it seemed to rankle with some of the younger men. He discovered why when he found that he was to step out second to Mr Elphinstone in the first dance, a waltz; the young man partnered the wife of a leading planter, as he must, while Frederick took the hand of Miss Bentley, a beautiful girl and obviously the belle of plantation society.

  He danced well - a year of Vienna meant that he could hardly not - and she was light on her feet. Regrettably, she was also light between the ears - conversation with her was laboured in the extreme. He mentioned a few names of the famous in European society and that satisfied her need for foreign erudition - she spent the remainder of the dance admiring how well he performed on the floor.

  He danced with all seven of the young misses present - it would have been impolite not to - and discovered none of them to be in any way educated. He presumed that they could read, but none had ever opened a serious book of a certainty. He had commented on an oil-painting hung on the wall of the ballroom, a copy of a Rubens, he thought; none of the girls had heard of the name. Later he discovered that he should have mentioned Sir Walter Scott, that noted historian so beloved of the Virginians; most of the ladies would have very seriously informed him that their family was known to be descended from the famous knight, Ivanhoe.

  There would be much to be said for a wife who was not a bluestocking - Frederick's own grasp of the elegancies of education was, after all, quite limited. A lady who was effectively an illiterate was perhaps too much of a good thing, he suspected.

  He drank little and remained quite sober, unlike the majority of the men, who were worse for wear when the ball broke up in the small hours. It was interesting, he thought, to note that even so there was no sign of the pairing off that would have occurred in Vienna or to a lesser extent in London - gentlemen and ladies all showed every indication of retiring to their legitimate beds. It was worth remembering that adultery was not a commonplace sport in this society.

  He made his farewells to the Elphinstones around noon and rode homewards in relaxed fashion. He had discovered during the evening that the bulk of the planters were to be seen in Richmond after the cotton came in, which gave him some little time in which to purchase his own town house. He must make his way to the Millers and enquire how one went about such a transaction. Perhaps he would discover a suitable bride among the eligible ladies in the big city, for it was obvious to him that he should settle himself if he was to be many years in exile in the plantation lands. It was not impossible that he would remain for the rest of his existence, in fact - the life had much to recommend it.

  Colonel Miller was failing; it was obvious to Frederick, to his son, and, fortunately, to himself. The old man much regretted that his wife, Thomas' mother, was not still with him, but he could not remember when she had died or exactly what her name had been...

  "Jenny, sir."

  "So it was, my boy. A good lass, one of the best... Who is this with you again?"

  Thomas grimaced across the room to Frederick.

  "Lord Frederick Masters, sir. We helped to procure his plantation for him earlier this year."

  "Ah, yes... My memory is almost gone, I fear, Thomas. Old age is not an untrammelled blessing, or so it seems. Time for me to make my final farewell, my boy, I will not continue in this state... You have been a good son to me, Thomas - no man could have asked for a better. Do not bring the children to say their adieus, they are too young to understand. Tell them I said goodbye and sent my love; to your lady wife as well.
There! I have done my last duty and everything else is for me alone. Send the servants to take me to bed, Thomas. Do not come up yourself. May God grant you a long and happy life, my boy. And to you, sir - I cannot remember your name, I am so sorry!"

  The old man was helped up the stairs, almost unable to walk unaided.

  "He has come to his end, Lord Frederick. I envy him in some ways. He has been a man of iron resolve, and now he has decided that his time has come. He will not see the morning; he had a bottle of laudanum in his room, provided he remembers it."

  "I should leave you, Mr Miller. You do not need guests in the house at this time."

  "No, that is not how he wants it. He is a hard man - though never to me - and would never wish undue sentiment to interfere with his everyday life, or with mine."

  Dinner was a sombre meal but not actively unhappy. The old gentleman had lived his life and was now arranging his death - it was not for them to grieve unduly.

  "A house in Richmond, Lord Frederick - not a difficult purchase, provided you do not intend to locate yourself in one of the few mansions. A place of ten or so bedrooms and with proper facilities and quarters may be leased, or purchased outright for ten thousands in cash. There are always those in a hurry to sell up for one reason or another. Our merchants tend to take extravagant risks, in exchange for vast profits on most, but not all, occasions. The trade into Africa is hazardous and there are those who will venture to China or round Cape Horn to the California coasts and north to Nootka and beyond. Some of them come to grief, in the nature of things, and are forced to dispose of their assets in a great hurry. I will send word to my man in Richmond to look out for you."

  "Thank you, sir. What of location? Is Richmond like London in that only a few quarters are the purlieus of the gentry?"

  "To an extent, Lord Frederick... there are places where you will never tread, around the iron foundries and such. Of course, the docks as well are not a place to dwell. But most of the town is open to us. It is, as goes without saying, far smaller than London."